I’m sure that on most people’s travels, there is a place they often pass by, but never stop. A place that is remarkable, but nowhere in particular. As soon as you round the corner, you know where you are, but you don’t stop.
We all have places like that. We do.
Last weekend, we stopped. We got out. We explored. It turns out it is a rather special place.
We intended to follow the river, but instead turned right along a lane. One we had not noticed before. It may have been the man we spotted, striding down there, that drew our attention.
By the time we were on the lane, the tall man had gone and, in front of us, lolloping along, without a care in the world, was a long-legged hare. So we followed. He gently zig-zagged down the lane ahead of us for some time. We had time to study him. Then, he turned left into a field. Zig-zagging around the field, still seemingly unaware of us. (If only I’d taken my telephoto lens.) Sometimes, just on the other side of the ditch to us. The children were thrilled.We carried on along the lane, spotting more hares in the other fields. Talking about all the legends we knew about hares.
There was an air as if we had disturbed a hare get-together. We needed to move on.
We headed on towards another spot in the landscape that we often noticed, but never known how to reach. The hill in the distance.
Walking through a field of young cattle.
Until we reached the hill.Once the hill was conquered, we headed back.
I can’t help thinking, once more, how beautiful the Somerset Levels are, especially at this time of year.It was worth stopping. You never know what you will spot. Nature cannot be guaranteed to turn up on schedule. We’ll be back, but I’d bet my bottom dollar, we’ll never see the hares there again. Not that it will stop us from trying.